


Hot For Teacher

by nuyoukai



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Drugs, F/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-09-03 18:30:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8725579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuyoukai/pseuds/nuyoukai
Summary: Based on the theory that Nathan is also a time traveler, but instead, goes into the future, and has been dropping subtle hints the entire game of your doomed fate, but you aren't Max nor Chloe. You're you.
You're fixated on that dreamboat; Mark Jefferson--That's Mr. Jefferson to you. He seems like a nice gentleman, but he's way out of your league, and with all of those other teenage girls drooling all over him, it certainly doesn't help your case. You find yourself at the Vortex Club's End of the World party for whatever reason, and conveniently forgot he was going to be there for the Everyday Heroes contest. What makes matters worse, is that Nathan has taken an interest in you, and has been eyeballing you in class occasionally. 
I plan on making this a multi-chapter, choose your own path adventure. The chapter titles will be named simply, to avoid confusion.





	1. End of the World Party

For whatever reason, you're attending the Vortex Club's End of the World party, and you'd be sticking out like a sore thumb, if everyone weren't drunk off their ass. End of the World, you scoff. More like, end of the line for the Scotts, according to the rumors you've been hearing. Despite your skepticism, however, you had to admit it was a nice setup. Your eyes wandered of their own accord to the custom-made and probably hella expensive custom-made vortex-shaped lights. 

_Where the hell do the 'Scotts get their cash from?_

You pondered, your mind quickly replying with;

_Probably all of those people they blackmail for money. Must be nice, having all of that cash._

Someone sits next to you, interrupting your thoughts. A minute later, someone else sits on the other side, sandwiching you between the two strangers. 

_"Hey pretty lady~"_ The one on the left slurs, awkwardly draping an arm around you. 

_He must be drunk, thinking I'm pretty._

"Get lost, _scumbag_ ," You sneer, scooting away from his arm, but unfortunately into the man on the right. 

_"Heeeeeey, no need to be rude, we're just looking for a good time--"_

The one and only man, who practically radiates confidence taps on the mic, and gestures to the DJ. What was his name again? DJ Apocalypse, DJ Insert-Hipsterbullshitnamehere...  
The one on the left adjusts his arm around you again, stretches, and then lets out a loud belch in the silence. Right. In. Your. Ear.  
You're hiding your head in your hands, your face as red as a tomato, trying desperately not to make more of a scene than there already was. All eyes were in your direction, even Mr. Charismatic spared a glance. Thankfully, he breaks the silence with a clearing of his throat. 

"Riggggghht, well, I'm here to announce the winner of the Everyday Heroes contest!"

"Before we begin, I'd like to thank those who entered," 

"And those who thought about entering." He glances, briefly, at Max Caulfield. 

Your mind wandered off, listening to the tone of his voice, rather than what he was saying. It was oddly hypnotic, much like the custom-made vortex lights spinning around the room still. You decided you could fall in love with the party atmosphere, briefly wondering what it'd be like to grab the two strangers next to you and head to the bathrooms, or even right there on the couch... 

_"The hell are you thinking?"_ Your conscience grounds you. 

_"Maybe it's time to just let go, give in to your desires~"_

As soon as the thoughts had started, they were over. 

"With that being said, it's time to announce the winner!" 

A teen or adult, you couldn't make out, walks up the side of the stage, handing Jefferson a pristine, white letter. Without delay, his expertly-groomed fingers elegantly opened the letter, without a single rip. That man is a piece of art. And the winner is--He pauses for dramatic effect--Victoria Chase! A chorus of mostly boos follow, along with a couple of cheers, from whom you assumed to be her minions. She gave her speech, along with a mention of Kate Marsh. Huh, the Chase family has heart.

Her speech ends, with Jefferson in tow, closing up the mini ceremony. You have a desperate need to get up and quench your thirst, your body screaming at you to get something--anything, but the guys who were sandwiching you are now hovering over you, their hot breath fanning your face as they plant desperate, hungry kisses on every inch of your exposed skin. You desperately try to shove them off, but they've got you pinned. Your mind tries to fathom an escape plan, which doesn't involve kicking them in the family jewels, considering your legs are also trapped between them. They're also less drunk than they let on, or they're smarter drunks than you thought. 

You put all of your energy into pushing one off, and manage to slip out from under the other. One grabs you by the leg, and down you fall, but kick him in the shin. Down, he goes. You sprint as fast as you can to the far wall, looking for an escape anywhere, but you can't find one. Defeated, but not dead, you sit down to regain your composure.  
Heavy breathing won't get you anywhere, think, relax. 

Your eyes landed on him--Mark Jefferson. The man you hate to love. 

_He's your teacher, for fuck's sake, look at how pathetic you are. He probably has every teenage girl in the school drooling all over him._

Right then, his dark gaze meets yours. It takes you a minute to register, but you look away, blushing. Maybe this party really has gotten to me, or that encounter. He saunters over to you, towering over your sitting form, and bends down to meet you--Eye to eye, then hands you a mystery drink in a red solo cup. You don't give it a second thought, and gulp it down greedily, a drop traveling down your mouth to rest on a newly-formed hickey in your unfortunate encounter. He looks at it, then briefly around the party to look for the suspects. 

"I saw what happened. I apologize for not being able to get over here sooner, but you're safe now. I'll stay with you for a bit to make sure of that. Those boys, they won't get far, not if I have anything to say about it." 

Always take the shot. 

He looks at you, then offers a hand to pull you up. You accept, and follow him to a set of seats. He takes the one opposite to you. Again, he looks at the exposed, offending mark on your neck. Your hair's disheveled, you're a heavily-breathing mess of a person, and yet he still wants to stay with you to make sure you're alright.  
Get over yourself, he doesn't look at you in that way.

You're unable to form any real coherent thoughts or words, but a shakey thank you and a bit of eyecontact. He's dressed in his usual attire, despite being at a party. He looks like he doesn't belong here, then again, neither do I. Your eyes focus on the pulsating lights, and you're hypnotized. You must have spaced out for a while, because he calls your name gently, as to not scare you. Your heart skipped. 

"Well then, I'd say we've sampled enough of the party life for one day. How are you feeling?" 

You manage to choke up some words without sounding completely pathetic. 

"I-i'm alright.." 

His lips and gaze narrow in disbelief. 

"That settles it, I'll be walking you to your dorm hall then to make sure you're alright. From there, however, you're on your own, but you'll be alright, seeing as the boys dorm is on the other side of campus."


	2. Author Note

I didn't think this would get as much support as it has, and while I do appreciate the comments, I'm probably going to be reworking the entire thing. I'm not satisfied with it, and I feel as though it isn't as good as some of the few works I've put out, despite you guys enjoying it. Every LiS fanstory that I've seen usually involves the End of the World party, and I don't want my story to feature the typical mary-sueish reader, or feature the same ideas as everyone else. It doesn't feel right.


End file.
